


Lullaby

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-28
Updated: 2005-02-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: Another season, another reason: waking up.





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Lullaby**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Leo, Jed  
**Pairing(s):** Leo/Jed  
**Category(s):** Slash  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** TWW is Sorkin's. Makin' Whoopee is Gus Kahn's. I'm not making money on this. Don't sue.  
**Summary:** Another season, another reason: waking up.  
**Author's Note:** Fluff; written for the Writing Sound challenge at http://sound.gatefiction.com 

[-----] 

Sleep muffled it at first, but he heard the snap of the bathroom door closing. Then, the squeak of an old faucet, and the hiss of water a moment before said hiss was joined by an off-key warbling of the same song he'd always heard in that same off-key warble - "Another bride, another groom, the countryside is all in bloom" - and he buried his face in the deep pillows, letting the sound of his own heartbeat and the settling of the down smother the noise coming from the bathroom. It wasn't a particularly happy song, and Jed wasn't a particularly talented singer, but it was constant, and comforting. Leo smiled into the pillows, and tried to go back to sleep. 

"The choir sings, here comes the bride," Jed wailed, and Leo knew he wouldn't be getting to sleep. Every morning he'd ever stayed with Jed, he'd heard the same abominable rendition, off-key and over-loud. It wasn't that Jed couldn't hold a note; he'd heard, once or twice in a more quiet and less eager voice, almost eloquent handlings of Sinatra and Elvis. He'd even heard, one rare moment years ago, a fairly decent handling of The Kinks, though he was certain it was decent only because it would take a much greater lack of talent than what Jed had to screw up The Kinks. He opened one eye and peered in the general direction of the bathroom; the song continued, and, not for the first time, he wondered why Jed never varied. He could hear, under the singing, Jed moving out of the stream coming from the showerhead, and the steady hiss turned into a pitter of droplets splattering on the floor, sounding like rain on pavement would to someone who was indoors. He closed his eye again, switched positions, and heard Jed get back under the shower. 

"Picture that same sweet love nest, think what a year can bring," Jed sang, still off-key. The shower seemed to shush him to no avail, the water sounding steadily through the old walls. Every morning, even though "every morning" these days were likely to be months apart, but every morning, Leo heard the same things. Constant. Comforting. Somewhat painful to his eardrums, but only because his eardrums didn't seem to have the capability to be in love. Or maybe they did, and that was why they never crawled out of his head to scamper away; maybe they loved Jed so much that they put up with his destruction of a perfectly good fucked-up not-quite-love song. He turned on his side, his back facing where Jed would be emerging, as he heard the old faucet squeak off. The water dripped anyway, wasting that precious, somewhat skeevish DC water with every echoing plink against the porcelain tub, even after he heard the rush of the door opening and the click of it being shut. Before he felt the bed shift under Jed's weight, he heard the soft crush of the comforter being pulled back and pushed against the flannel sheets and the sigh of the mattress as Jed put one knee and then the other on it. He heard Jed's breath against his hair only a millisecond before he felt the warm weight of Jed's arms on his, heard him roughly swallow before he smelled his soap. 

"What would you do if I changed songs," Jed asked, his voice vibrating against the back of Leo's neck. It was deep, solid, and made him feel like a train was rumbling past, shaking his insides like a tiny earthquake. "What would you do?" 

"Find someone who could carry a tune," Leo quipped, turning so he was facing Jed; shifting of sheets and soft breathing covered the sounds of the DC traffic and the rest of the world waking up. "And maybe get outta town." 

Jed kissed him, open-mouthed, and all he heard was the same thing he heard every morning he was with Jed: 

His blood, rushing. 

-end- 


End file.
